The metaphor that was so popular in General Conference just a few years ago resurfaced again, but in a surprising way. A week ago, when I was meeting with my Jane Austen discussion group, one of the participants who was raised in a conservative Catholic home, but is now mainline protestant, referred to the analogy of religion as a ship. She used the analogy completely differently than we heard it used in General Conference. She said that religion is a ship that takes you to a new shore, in a new place, and then you are there. The new land is where you live the teachings of Jesus. The ship brought you there, but you don’t stay on the ship. You basically “graduate” from the ship and go forth to live and work among all of humanity, trying your best to live up to the ideals He preached. The ship is no longer necessary.
This parallels a sentiment my grandparents (who were protestants, not Mormons) once shared, that Church is for children. A schoolbus would come by to pick up the children to take them to Church, but parents often didn’t go because they already “got it.” They were Christians. They didn’t need the exact same instruction over and over for the rest of their lives. They needed to just try to live a moral life using the teachings they already had.
In Buddhism there are two sayings that are along these same lines of thinking:
- “If you meet the Buddha in the road, kill the Buddha.” This saying means that you should not revere and idolize the teacher; you should live the teachings. Enlightenment comes from within, not from external sources.
- “I am a finger pointing to the moon. Don’t look at me; look at the moon.” This is a saying attributed to Buddha in which he is saying he is just a teacher, but should not be worshipped or idolized. Rather we should look at the teaching, not the teacher. Just as the pointing finger guides us to the moon, but is not glorious like the moon, the teacher might bring us to enlightenment, but the teacher is not the teaching.
We recently returned from a trip to Egypt. Because it is such an iconic part of the Egypt tourist experience, we booked a Nile cruise. We had just seen Death on the Nile, and I was picturing rocking up at amazing Egyptian temples, taking our time walking through with our guide explaining what we were seeing, and then sauntering back on board as the sun setted over the lazy Nile waters. These are fairly small ships with maybe 80 passengers. Tour groups were arranged through local tour companies, not the ships; some people were touring in groups of twenty or thirty. Others, like us, just shared a single guide with one other passenger. We weren’t excited about being at the sites with 80 other people all at once because it’s just harder to take pictures, to see what you want to see, etc., but this class of ship was much better than some of the other options. It’s possible to cruise one a single-sail felucca and sleep on the deck under the stars, for example, but it also seemed a little like I’m-too-old-for-that.
Imagine our surprise when we discovered that ALL the ships are on the same schedule, and they all dock together. We weren’t just one ship docking and going to see the amazing sites. We were nested between other similarly sized ships, four or five ships deep, and both behind and in front of our ships were more ships similarly nested, so now we were among hundreds of passengers from a dozen ships, all pouring into the sites at the exact same time. As you can imagine, that meant standing shoulder to shoulder with dozens of other tourists trying to take the exact same picture of the exact same hieroglyph. In case you were wondering, this was nothing like the cruise in Death on the Nile. It was more like going to a concert, in a bad way, with more risk of being trampled than sexy dancing with Armie Hammer or delightful amuse-bouches with Hercule Piorot.
Our guide said that if we come back, he recommends skipping the Nile cruise and staying in hotels instead, which are roomier and have nice pools, using a hired car to see the sites instead, because he knows the ship schedules and would time it so you can actually hear him speak and take the pictures you want to take, and wander the site, really feeling like you can experience it. I would definitely do it that way in future.
But it got me thinking back to that ship analogy. If you had told teenage me that the Good Ship Zion was going to be nestling with a bunch of Evangelical churches and an occasional Catholic church, nearly indistinguishable in terms of our experience, and that this was how it would be for the rest of my adult life, I would have thought you were joking. If you had said that meetings would be hard to distinguish from conservative political rallies, I would never have believed it. Yet here we are.
Maybe that’s because when I was young, Church was still teaching me things I didn’t know. As an adult, since I now know what Jesus taught, I am left to evaluate the Church in terms of its alignment with those teachings, or its misalignment. I can judge what is moral and what is not because I was taught in my youth.
Back to the boat, though, why would anyone stay in a boat indefinitely? I enjoy sailing as much as the next person, but whenever you get in any vehicle, the point isn’t to stay in the vehicle forever, but to go somewhere. You don’t drive to church on Sunday and sit in your car in the parking lot. The only reasons I can think of to stay in a boat long-term are 1) a Covid outbreak on your cruise ship, which then descends into a Lord of the Flies scenario, or 2) Noah’s Ark, which basically starts as a Lord of the Flies (and all other animals) scenario. In the first case, you must stay aboard to quarantine, to protect others from contamination by you, and in the second, you can’t leave because you will drown since there’s no land above water (nevermind that the story isn’t historically accurate, but taking the story at face value for the metaphor it is).
It’s this second reason that I think Church leaders (and conservatives in general) seem to be concerned about, the idea that leaving the boat equals danger and personal contamination, that we, as disciples of Christ, are too weak to survive. We can’t swim on our own. While there’s value in belonging to a community of supportive believers, all striving to do our best, we are in fact supposed to also interact with the world around us. The idea that everything outside of the boat (or Church) is scary and bad is no way to be a Christian. If you’re only interacting with other Christians, you’ve kind of missed the point. Right?
- Do you think the Church was always “nested” with other high demand conservative religions or do you see this as a shift due to increased polarization?
- Do you think the analogy of a ship that never reaches shore is a good analogy or not?
- Do you like the version of the ship analogy that my friend said is more common in her experience?
- Is Church for children? Do we outgrow it? Or do we need it because of the community, so long as that community is one we want to belong to?
Discuss.
Wheat & Tares 
An excellent post Hawkgrrrl. Over recent months I have been following the various blogs about the current wave of disaffection around the church with great interest and I think that you have contributed greatly to it. .When I was raising my children I tried to instill in them the concept that the church and the Gospel are two entirely different things; one is temporary and imperfect – an aid to raising our families and receiving ordinances, but still subject to errors (think polygamy and the racial restrictions in particular). There is no church, or even any Temples, in the Celestial kingdom. The other thing, the Gospel, however, is eternal and perfect. It is all Truth. However, I’ve found over the years that mentioning this principle is not guaranteed a favorable reception by church leaders who often feel threatened by the idea. We all know what happened to Ronald Poelman when he tried to address the subject in GC.
So my thinking is that a large part of what is happening is that we are collectively “letting go” of the church as an institution – it has largely served its purpose for those of us who have been members for years. We have received the ordinances, have learned the basic principles, and can now move onto a higher level of living it. As we leave the cradle behind, the Gospel is becoming more operative in our lives than ever. Our relationship with Christ and our Heavenly Parents is deeper, freer, and less constricted by church mandates and customs. We do not need the institutional church to learn more about God; in fact, those church leaders who feel challenged by those who seek Heavenly Mother, for example, will push back against anyone seeking for Her and seeking to commune with Her as any child does with their parent.
Not saying that this letting go, which is a progression, is the entire story of what is happening. There are too many dimensions in it for that, but I believe it is central.
Great post! I love the analogy of the church being a boat taking us where we need to go. I think even church leaders could get behind this analogy, because there are so many great things that can go along with it. Even though perhaps the boat has taken me where I need to go, I might get back on it and make the trip back and forth to help others get where they need to go (for example, my children). I hope my kids stay in the boat (or a boat) for a while, because I think they could still use the help and guidance in their lives, learning to be good Christians and good people.
(And I don’t believe that it’s the only boat taking people where they need to go. I feel like I would benefit from taking additional rides on additional ships, to accumulate more knowledge and goodness. I can do that without forgetting the knowledge and goodness I learned on the ship that I was born on.)
I believe it was Maxwell who compared the Church to an aircraft carrier. If it turns too sharply, members fall off. My thought is: if it turns too slowly, members jump off. Or if it heads the wrong direction, members jump off. I believe jumping is what is happening now.
An alternate view: (1) It takes a village. Even if the Church is just to teach children and youth, you need half a congregation of adults to run Primary and youth classes. (2) There are adult converts. If they are to successfully go through the “Mormonization” process, there has to be a supporting congregation of adults to facilitate that. So even those adult Mormons who have attained the Ninth Level of Enlightenment and who no longer need the fellowship of the Saints are needed, as there are others who need them. As with the Buddha, who attained Enlightenment but delayed entering Paradise so he could linger and teach the message of Enlightenment to others.
Really interesting thoughts, Hawkgrrrl. I wonder if the Reformation couldn’t be usefully fit into this analogy. The Catholic Church *owned* boating. It was the required, absolutely essential boat. Nobody could boat without it, and it was for everyone. (I think “Catholic” means “universal.”) But then people started to get the idea that they could boat on their own, so they started striking out separately on new boats. And boat-building fragmented, and it became clear that anyone could go out boating, with no permission from the Catholic Church required.
One problem with the boat analogy is the exclusivity of the passenger population. If only 2/1000 people are in the boat (more like 1/1000 since Church membership is at least 50% inactive), it feels very “us vs. them”. That might be fine with the older demographic and with the Q15, but not with most of the rest of us. We don’t want to be on a boat that excludes and invalidates virtually everyone on the earth now or who has ever lived or who will ever live.
It’s not that the Church wants it this way. After all, the propaganda behind serving a mission was on full display two weeks ago. But we all know that isn’t going to change the numbers. And to take the analogy to its ultimate conclusion: I don’t want to be on a boat that goes where no other (the 998/1000) boats go if it’s true, and just wanders according to the philosophies of the captain mingled with scripture if it’s false. The boat feels like a trap instead of a vehicle for true happiness.
The Captain does indeed treat us like children. He tells us to doubt our doubts about the better life off the boat. He tells us not to share our boat-related concerns with others. He tells us not to criticize him or the crew. And he tells us we are lazy if we actually look into the history of the ships previous voyages. We are told to endure to the end because the ultimate destination follows, but in doing so we sacrifice the joys of life right in front of us (off shore) today.
The quality of the LDS ship programs and accommodations have changed over the years.
The LDS ship has always been known to be expensive and passengers have always willingly paid premium prices for the full service LDS cruise experience. Many families has been cruising on the same cruise line for years and the kids have loved hearing their elderly relatives talk about all the wonderful ports and the amazing ship experiences that they have had in the past. The kids have looked forward to those same experiences..
Current passengers were promised that they will get a baloney suite and a true luxury cruise experience in exchange for the high price of the tickets.
As the current passengers board, they are randomly being assigned housekeeping, entertainment and meal prep. They are promised that there is a captain on board and that he knows how to navigate. The term Celestial Navigation keeps being brought up — but the LDS ship seems to be going in circles and has not docked in a real port in years.
As the passengers clean, entertain each other, prep meals and shine up the ship, they are able to see the other ships nearby. The other ships all appear to have capable and competent paid staff and the passengers on other ships appear to be having a really good time. The other ships serve margaritas.
The LDS passengers have been told that the LDS ticket price will stay the same but that they will be expected to pick up even more of the work load. They are told that they should be grateful to be allowed on the cruise. The entertainment program was just cancelled. Housekeeping and meal prep are now the only options.
In other news, the LDS cruise line just posted record-setting profits. The company states that increased profits were due to savvy investments unrelated to the cruise industry.
Such a great analogy and comments. I’m definitely more on-board (see what I did there) with the idea of Church as a boat than a spouse …
I think the problem for the Church is that it just fundamentally sees the world as bad and getting worse. I’m becoming increasingly convinced that this is one of the Church’s major problems–and in this case, it means Church believes it IS the destination and that no other destination is good. Getting off the boat is getting off the covenant path and that is dangerous.
I don’t really think Church is just for children, if we could figure out a way to do it better. I think there are ways to re-envision Church as a community that can be good for both kids and adults. But right now, I’m not convinced it’s working all that well for either set.
As for nesting–my life experience is that it’s felt like we’ve become nested in the last decade or so. But in reading about history (currently reading Petrey’s history of sexuality), I’m realizing that we became nested a long time before that (at least starting in the 1950’s with the civil rights movement, and then ESPECIALLY starting in the 70’s with anti-feminism, anti-ERA, anti-LGBT advocacy). I just didn’t notice because I was still living in an insular Mormon world.
“Is church for children?” Apparently by design as “they” continually seek to infantilize us. The Good Ship Zion – more like the Good Ship Lollipop.
I think that’s what finally got me – the condescension, the little (and sometimes not so little) lies for our own good. A constant diet of porridge, never any meat.
While I love the Buddhist quotes and the boat analogy is fun, I think there are a few things I’d quibble with on this.
~~ “If you had said that meetings would be hard to distinguish from conservative political rallies, I would never have believed it. Yet here we are.” ~~
I’m all for criticizing the sheer boringness of our meetings and the shallowness of CFM, but this seems to be going too far. Does this type of hyperbole coming from those of us on the left really help create unity with those on the right?
~~”~You basically “graduate” from the ship and go forth to live and work among all of humanity, trying your best to live up to the ideals He preached. The ship is no longer necessary.”~~
The ship still is necessary though, especially for all of those that haven’t reached the shore yet. Even if you (or I) don’t see ourselves as being dependent on the ship, as we were in the past, others are now. With that, it seems deeply un-Christian to not help those still trying to gain forward momentum over the seas. Helping to paddle, steer, plug-leaky-cracks, improve the journey for others, that all seems like what Jesus would do for those seeking him. At the same time, I’d argue it’s not ALL we should do and we shouldn’t only be focused on those in the boats.
I suppose I’m still committed to the 19th century notion that the Church was and is an actual kingdom of God, a community of faith, the body of Christ that was restored to establish a state of existence we call “Zion”. Coupled with my continual fight against seasickness when on cruises, I’ll take a pass on this analogy
Great conversation and amazing comments! I’ve even debated writing this as I’m not sure I have much to add, but here’s my attempt:
I see the boat as a completely optional way to get ashore. You can take the boardwalk, swim, fly, etc. And I’m open to people flourishing where they are if their current location works for them, even if their destination differs from mine.
As someone born on the ship, but believes I have either jumped off or come ashore, I’m tasked with how I raise children with the tools to get to the best destination possible. And I’m not sure the boat is really required. I mean sure, the boat worked for me until it didn’t, and the boat works for many folks, but I’m not sure the boat is right for my kids, for example.
As for staying connected to those still on the boat, I’m more than happy to take day trips out to the boat to hang with my tribe, assuming they want me there and won’t throw shade that I no longer reside there. To wit, I still have a calling and fill it the best I can, but the calling doesn’t require me to be there all the time, and I don’t want to be there all the time. But when I choose to show up, I do so with a genuine smile on my face to be with my people, even if I occasionally hear things that make me throw up in my mouth.
“amuse-bouches” 😉
But what is the Gospel? To love God with all your heart with all your soul, and with all your mind. And your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang the whole law and the prophets, too.
All metaphors quickly become absurd when they’re stretched too far. People who try to make the ship metaphor the central, guiding metaphor for all of our experience in the church have taken it too far. People who think of the ship as being perpetually at sea, where the only alternative to being in the ship is death, have taken it too far. The question is whether the metaphor can ever be properly limited to give it useful meaning without becoming absurd. I don’t have a settled opinion on that question.
I think the ship metaphor is similar to Jesus’s metaphor of the church as a flock in a sheepfold. The point seems to be that the church must protect its members from harm. Jesus asked his disciples to feed his sheep, suggesting that we have a role in protecting each other. (To see how the metaphor of the flock can instantly become absurd, ask yourself what use the shepherd might ultimately make of the sheep.) For me, the nurturing images of the shepherd’s flock are more meaningful than the relative coldness of the church as a great ship. But similarities between the metaphors are there.
On the other hand, I might ask why we need the metaphor of the ship if we already have the perfectly good metaphor of the flock? Maybe what the ship metaphor adds is a greater sense of isolation and desperation, and a more intense sense of danger for people who have no way to personally identify with sheep or shepherds. And maybe that’s why I find the ship metaphor a bit distasteful. I’m inclined to think in terms of inclusion instead of isolation, and I’m more motivated by the hope for peace than the fear of death.
In the news today: The Russian ship *Moscva* (Moscow), the flagship of their Baltic fleet, is, according to official Russian news, dealing with a small fire onboard but everybody’s fine so no big deal. Meanwhile, Ukrainians claim to have shot two anti-ship missiles into its hull, igniting its storage of ammuniton. They could do this because the Russians were distracted by a drone on the opposite side of ship that was hit. Apparently, Russian radar can only track one thing at a time. The ship may actually sink before the massive fire is put out and it’s towed to shore.
Well, it is Metaphor Week here at W&T. Make of this what you will.
@Hawkgrrrl:
“Do you think the Church was always “nested” with other high demand conservative religions?”
No. When I was a teen living in New York in the 1960s, I found the Church was invisible or rejected by other religions. We weren’t allowed in interfaith groups and efforts. So, we were taught that we don’t join other religions to do Christ’s work (sour grapes). I then saw in the next decades the efforts to make the Church palatable to other religions (branding). We are now encouraged to get involved in interfaith efforts. Hey, we’re just like you only a little bit better.
“Do you think the analogy of a ship that never reaches shore is a good analogy or not?”
Not. In addition to the several excellent points made by previous responders, it just perpetuates the fear-based teaching that the world is so evil, so awful, that the only safe place is to ride out mortality on the boat. Just hold your breath and endure til you die. Yes, the world has plenty of evil and life is hard. But the world has always been this way, and I have heard the messages that it is worse than ever since my earliest days. I have learned to recognize and seek the good that is out there, not just hide under a tarp on the ship any more.
Yes, I find your friend’s analogy of a ship’s purpose refreshing.
Yes, the Church is for children. And yes, it is for adults (or could be), but in it’s current state it offers little for higher spiritual development, for many, impedes it.
Update & correction: The *Moscva* is the flagship of Russia’s Black Sea fleet. Or was, anyway, as Russian state media now confirms it has sunk.
I like the ship analog Hawkgrrrl. It provoked two thoughts as I read it.
The first thought relates to your comment asking if we have always been nested. No, I don’t think we have been, but today it seems we are becoming more and more nested, more and more evangelical as time passes. Harold Bloom in his book The American Religion argues that Mormons and the Southern Baptists are the most quintessentially American religions. If I’m remembering correctly (it’s been well over a decade since I read the book so I might not be fully accurate in my representation) Bloom is quite unkind to the Southern Baptists, essentially calling them know-nothings and anti-intellectuals, devoid of any theology. I don’t believe he thinks any more highly of Mormons, but, in contrast, seems to admire Joseph Smith’s attempts at theology, even though I think Bloom more or less says it makes no sense at all. It’s almost like Bloom awards Southern Baptists zero points for turning in a blank sheet of paper, and Mormons get one point for at least turning in a page of gibberish. Bloom laments that Smith didn’t live long enough to complete his theology. (However, what followed from Smith’s efforts, and Young’s, Bloom would say is remarkable and deserving of great admiration.) While Bloom may praise Smith’s imagination, you get the sense despite Bloom’s respect for Mormon originality, he really seems to look upon us condescendingly, like we are children fumbling about in an adult world, and the most remarkable part of our beliefs is our systematic denial of death. Here is my point, I found myself agreeing with you when you say–and I’m inserting my own words and understanding here–church teachings were exciting when we were young because it was new, and it was meaningful learning as a child and perhaps as an adolescent. But in adulthood, I find myself wanting more. More cogent explanations, more insight instead of rote teachings and obedience mandates. We seem to be evolving more in the direction of Southern Baptist theology than, say, Lutheran theology, in terms of theological imagination and richness. If we are nesting, I think its at the wrong dock. In that regard, I’m dying for the ship to reach a port, to make landfall after a long time at sea. I’ve said this before: Where is our own Paul Tillich? We need a tour guide of that caliber, to mix metaphors.
The second thought that came to my mind was why the church seems to want us to stay in the boat, and why that is inflicting so much pain on many members and why depth of experience and teachings seems to lack. Around 18 years ago I read a book written by a family therapist and social worker. To frame the vignettes she used to illustrate her points, the author spends time in the first couple of chapters writing about the Beavers System Model of family dynamics. On the vertical axis–family style–families range from centripetal (enmeshed) to centrifugal (outside the family oriented). Neither style is better or worse. Some families find more joy and fulfillment in enmeshment, centering their primary relationships within the family, while other families find more fulfillment in developing relationships outside of the family (without forsaking family relationships). Along the horizontal axis is family competence, with ten points that range from worst: poor boundaries, confused communication, lack of shared focus, despair and denial. On the other end of the ten point continuum you find families with the most favorable healthy traits like capable negotiation, individual respect, choice, intimacy, warmth and humor. Family style is not a continuum, but curvilinear. Inward focused families and outward focused families can be either dysfunction and unhealthy or functional and healthy depending on their level of competency. My point here is that our church has always felt enmeshed, we are inward focused, we are packed in the boat and we all share that living space. And I would argue that the church falls around level 5 in competency, which isn’t a particularly good place to be. At that point, we have relatively clear communication with rules applied, an effort to and emphasis on controlling behavior, where “loving means controlling”, ever present is anxiety, depression, and worse, the denial of depression. This felt like my church when I read it at the time, and it still does. It might even be worse today. The problem is the outcomes of children (members) at the intersection on the grid of style and competency. Within our centripetal church family and being at a level of five in competency, the church creates members who are often neurotic. (If we were centrifugal, we would create offspring with behavioral problems). It feels to me this is where we are if we stay in the boat, and if the objective is that the boat always stays out to sea by design, we stand less of a chance at increasing our competency and will always remain unhealthily enmeshed.
I like some parts about the boat. I like my centripetal church family. But I wish the church would find its own shore so we can disembark and explore independently. I wish we could build to a competency level of ten. (This last GC makes me feel like we won’t ever rise above a five.) If we made landfall, maybe we would learn something new and change for the better.
I don’t know if this will add much, but something in LHCA’s comment brought to mind the movie Wall-E. For those unfamiliar with the movie (spoiler warning, if necessary), as the Earth reaches near inhabitability, a group of people are put on a spaceship (the Axiom) to wait in safety until the “leaders” on Earth can make the planet habitable again (this is what the human captain and passengers believe). Unknown to the humans aboard, the ships lead computer/robot (and captain’s main assistant) received a message that Earth wasn’t salvageable, so the lead computer is instructed to not allow the Axiom to return to Earth ever. Since no one else knows of this message, life continues aboard the axiom (including periodic probes being sent to Earth to see if Earth is ready for a return) normally, until a probe brings back evidence that it might be time to return.
Without spoiling the ending, I almost feel like we are living the ensuing battle between the human and robot captains trying to decide if it there is anything good outside the boat or if getting to shore and leaving the boat (even temporarily) is too deadly dangerous.
I don’t know if it adds anything, but I might be pondering this one for a bit.
Two people who are close to me are currently looking for a therapist (unrelated to their being close to me…I hope). I was asking them what their goals are for the therapy, and one of the two had a specific outcome in mind (a medication along with some sessions to assess how the medication is working and/or to try alternatives). The other didn’t really seem to have considered having any set goal for an outcome or a time frame to continue the therapy. Just to clarify, neither of these people are in an “abnormal” psychology situation. The therapy is for basics related to self-diagnosed anxiety and depression, not a clinical diagnosis of something such as bipolar, borderline personality disorder, etc. To extend the analogy (here at Analogy Week, patent pending), I know there are people who see a therapist indefinitely, but that always struck me as the therapist having a goal of putting in a new swimming pool rather than striving for improved mental wellness for the patient. Perhaps that’s why staying in a boat forever makes no sense to me. At some point with therapy, if your life is staying the same, what is the point? Maybe you should find a new therapist or just get better friends. Perhaps that’s me being too cynical.
I dunno. I’m an alcoholic and the desire to get drunk never goes away. I haven’t actually had a drink in decades, but the physical craving is still there. My life is pretty much staying the same because of something in my brain that does not change. Just keeping sober and going from day to day may look like “staying the same” to an outsider, but it is a huge accomplishment to me. And I think that some folks with depression and anxiety have similar struggles.
Good for you, Naismith. There are long stretches where the scenery doesn’t change very much. But, over time, almost imperceptibly, somehow we become better human beings as we struggle with the daily grind.
It is the 2nd day in a row for my response to include a comment from Father Richard Rohr. Today I will paraphrase rather than quote. The First Half of Life (the teachings of the church) is simply a vessel to get me to The Second Half of Life (a relationship with my Savior)..
The “kill the Buddha” quote brought to my mind the fawning sycophants “worshiping” RMN.
I think Naismith and Jack have a point about some people’s need for ongoing therapeutic support. (If my therapy duration were a YM, he would be a newbie Teacher; if a YW, she would be a not-a-MIA-Maid-anymore.) My own therapist is lounging on a well-earned break in the Caribbean this week, and who knoweth but what I am funding part of that? (Actually, I knoweth that part very well. [eyeroll])
Perhaps many/most of us require a bracing course of focused therapeutic support (i.e. a tugboat) to help us dock at a certain destination, per Angela C’s comment. Aimless, circuitous, gratuitous therapy is nobody’s friend. At the same time, making permanent, or even long-term landfall on terrestrial earth *as we experience it* may not be a feasible short-term goal for others. (Dangerous riptides are not solely confined to whatever we’re defining as water, per Naismith’s comment. Challenging, unchanging mental processes can stalk us on dry land, too.)
It might be possible (or highly aspirational, depending) to conceptualize boats (church, therapy) as secure, nourishing, strengthening offshore bases (ah, attachment theory) from which we can launch shorter trips to dock at and support different relationships, but to which we can always return for additional nourishment and strengthening. The connections and insights that arise during a therapy session (likely augmented, on good days, by a dose of the Holy Ghost) will often reposition my attention to the most salient, needful city on the “coast” of interpersonal life faster than a solo trudge across, in my case, pretty arid cognitive earth. On good Sundays, inspiration shaken loose by the two-hour tour (echoes of Gilligan, albeit pre-marooning) can have a similar effect.
Shuttling back and forth between both therapy and church boats, as well as between the respective boats and various terrestrial (but not the kingdom!) relationships, has become The Way I Stay Sane, though I am in no position to judge anyone whose mileage varies and/or who disembarks from either vessel. If, on your individual journey, you spot a friendly wave from a portly, middle-aged swimmer whose upper arms still manage to fit in those inflatable rings (or, more likely, from the swimmer who has special-ordered inflatable rings in order to accommodate her bounteous upper arms), I hope you’ll wave back!
(Since I lurk but rarely comment, this might be my only chance to publicize the precious neurosis gifted to me by John Charity Spring, Ongoing Rogue. In February, before my first airplane flight since the pandemic, I scored a fine pair of lavender fleece-lined Crocs at TJ Maxx. Appealingly low price, easy on/easy off at security, built-in protection against chilly airplane temperatures–what could go wrong? What went wrong was the nagging fear that JCS would pop up from behind one of those massive metal trash barrels at the gate and denounce the moral vacuity festering at the center of my soul. [additional eyeroll] At this rate, my therapy will surely chug along to become a Priest, yea even an Elder. 🙂
The Good Ship Zion needs a captain and crew with a new vision of where the ship should head. The religious freedom crusade seems hollow. Obsessing over the dead and temple construction doesn’t resonate with the youth. LGBTQ discrimination appears mean spirited. We have a world full of opportunities and needs, the captain and crew need to find the right heading.
Roger, the captain is the Savior. And as Hugh Nibley said, “don’t worry, he knows what he’s doing.”
Jack: The Savior does not persecute LGBT people or silence women. Women were at the center of His ministry, as were all marginalized people.
Jack, did the Savior really give us POX? Did the Savior give us polygamy? Did the Savior give us the Black exclusion? Did the Savior suggest we hide our history? I think not. Maybe our leaders are asking the wrong questions. We do believe in continuing revelation and an “ongoing Restoration.” Don’t we.
“Whenever life get’s you down, Mrs. Brown
And things seem hard or tough
And people are stupid, obnoxious or daft
And you feel that you’ve had quite enough…
Just remember that you’re standing on a planet that’s evolving
And revolving at nine-hundred miles an hour
That’s orbiting at nineteen-hundred miles a second, so it’s reckoned …”
-The Galaxy Song (Monty Python)
I’m quoting the song because the ship metaphor is so excellent, it isn’t even a metaphor, it’s an actual description of our lives- we’re all on the mothership earth, hurling through the galaxy. And yes, we’re all in this together, as global citizens, as neighborhoods, communities, as believers of an Great God, and for some, the church of Christ. We’re all stuck together, rowing together. And yes, it really sucks.
Some people think it’s a paradox that on one hand, we are each independently working out our own salvation, but also somehow tied to families, churches and that pesky second greatest commandment. Can we really live one half of our life in church and the second half – evolve past that preparatory state to walk alone to/with God?
According to Joseph Campbell and the Hero’s journey, we start in the community, grow out of it, walk alone for a while, fight out big battle, then triumphantly return to the community to share the treasure or enlightenment or save them. So, while the community may have ostracized you, not served your needs, spurred your journey, you return (transformed) to give back.
Campbell asserted that this template works for most epic stories across cultures (Star Wars, Harry Potter, The Oddessy, Gilgamesh, Moses, Jesus, Buddha, Siddhartha, etc.). and is tied to mankind’s spiritual journey.
Ultimately, if we align ourselves with God, the weeping God of Mormonism, the God who sacrificed for us, the source of unconditional love and goodness, we will end up aligning with his (their) heart and passion- the redemption and care for each of his children/each fellow light. Mormons cite “this is my work and glory to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man”.
For example, how could I profess to be any sort of disciple of Christ, an enlightened guru in any path of light, if I turned my back on the tremendous humanitarian suffering in Ukraine now? Or, Syria? Or Yemen? If we belong to God, we belong to each other.
There is great love in boarding the ship of fools (headed down the river to the waterfall) to try and help them.
So for me the following questions arise:
Who on the ship is a transformed/enlightened leader?
What am I being called to do, what journey is beckoning me if I’ve been kicked off the good ship Zion or I’ve jumped off?
How do a regard my fellow sojourners? Future children, family, friends?
Angela C and Roger Hansen,
We moderns have all kinds of different reasons for apposing the modern prophets–anything from the First Presidency’s counsel on Covid19 to the church’s teachings on marriage and family. But we’re really no different than those who apposed the prophets in the past for one reason or another. It is an heritage of the Lord’s servants to offend not only the world but even the saints at times.
Of course, that’s not to say that the prophets are infallible–they’re not perfect. Even so, when they speak with authority — especially when all fifteen apostles are united — that’s the time to give them the benefit of the doubt–even if their counsel seems to go against some things that we hold dear. The saints have been challenged in every age by the counsel of their living prophets–and our modern age is no exception to that pattern.
“we’re really no different than those who apposed the prophets in the past for one reason or another.” True, now as then, they are the ones who get to control the narrative.
“their counsel seems to go against some things that we hold dear.” Is it a person or a thing when your child is LGBT?
Angela C,
I hope you don’t mind if a get a little personal here–I’m one of those who falls within the category of those who are most likely to commit suicide–in the U.S. With the possible exception of Native Americans–depressed white middle aged males are the most suicidal group in the country, averaging about thirty thousand suicides a year. I won’t go into the details of my story except to say that my condition is quite severe. But let’s suppose for the sake of argument that I had to have what I believed are necessary crutches in coping with suicidal ideation–alcohol, tobacco, drugs, p0rn, casual sex, and so forth. Should the church cease to establish boundaries regarding the word of wisdom, chastity, tithing, and so forth because they might run the risk of pushing me over the edge? Of course they can’t. But one may argue that they need to find a more charitable way of establishing those boundaries–which might be true. But even so, I think the church is doing its best to reach out to folks like me (and our LGBT friends) with compassion and understanding–but without compromising its foundational teachings. Sometimes the line between compassion and advocacy can be like walking a deadly tightrope. And my hope is that as the church moves forward into the future we will find better ways to include those who feel ostracized. Even so, I think I can say with a reasonable amount of confidence that such efforts will not be made at the expense of the church’s foundational teachings on marriage, family and gospel living.
Oh. My. Hell. Jack.
Jack, if you are feeling suicidal, please ask for help. Above all, I wish no harm upon you. It is distressing to see you use your experience with suicidal thoughts as a tool for debate. It suggests that your emotional state might be worse than you realize. Please, please reach out to someone you trust who can help you.
The responses to Jack’s comments are proof that we are a long way from the Zion kingdom the Lord has planned for us. I know that I have a long way to go, but I hope I am striving in the right direction. I do learn a lot when I read blogs and opinions of people that I don’t agree with. I hope we can all be more kind to each other, even when we disagree about this or that.
You’re quiet, Jack. I’m sure you’ve read the follow-ups to your comment. Are you okay? Do you need help? Regardless of what people think about your comments, no one wishes you ill. Do you need help?
Thanks everyone for your concern. I’m fine–no worries there. And I know you’re all good folks in spite of our differences of opinion.
Angel C, I probably missed the mark with my last comment. While I knew that I was opening the door on myself–I really meant my comment to be more about people like me rather than only me. And so I hope it wasn’t too hard a pill for you to swallow. I didn’t mean in any way to diminish your own difficulties and sufferings. God bless.
Generally, my intent was to convey the idea that a lot of people are suffering for a lot of different reasons–and the best the church can do is walk that fine tightrope between compassion and advocacy.
//Generally, my intent was to convey the idea that a lot of people are suffering for a lot of different reasons–and the best the church can do is walk that fine tightrope between compassion and advocacy.//
Waaaaait a minute. Are you equating being gay with being an alcoholic or drug addict? Suggesting that people are gay because they’ve got some kind of unresolved trauma and if they could treat that, then the gay would go away? Do you believe a 12-step program could cure gay? That people could become ‘recovering gays’ the same way they could become a ‘recovering alcoholic’? Because the conversation has moved so far past this insulting misconception that you’re basically on a different plane of existence if that’s the idea you were trying to convey. The Church doesn’t even try to suggest this anymore.
Jack wrote, “Sometimes the line between compassion and advocacy can be like walking a deadly tightrope.” This was perhaps the most alarming thing in Jack’s earlier comment. In the context of Jack’s remarks, it clear that when he says “deadly,” he means it literally. It is dangerous to believe this and it is dangerous to teach this. If you believe this and if you act as though you believe this, there is a reason to be gravely concerned for your spiritual and emotional well-being. If you believe this, then your understanding of compassion is distorted or the ideas you advocate are perverse. Please reconsider.
I think I’m going to have to get personal again. I live with constant suicidal ideation. With the help of professional counsellors, medication, and support from my family and ward, I’m able to manage it pretty-well these days. But even so, there was a time when listening to general conference would cause me to sink so low that I would have serious thoughts about ending my life. And what was it specifically that was so difficult for me to hear? Just the regular gentle reminders to do what the saints are expected to do.
So what has changed? Why do I look forward to conference now? I don’t think the rhetoric in the church has changed that much within the last decade. It’s me–I’m the one who has changed.
Even so, was the church wrong to preach the basics when there were — and still are — folks like me withering at the sound of it–even when it was delivered in compassionate sympathetic tones? Of course not. The church has a mandate to preach the gospel: “Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned.” Pretty strong language from the Savior. But there you have it.
Jack, I’m very glad that you are personally coping better than you were before. I hope you always continue to have the improvement and support that you need. However, even after what you have suffered, you’re still missing something essential. The idea of a “deadly tightrope” is exactly how deaths by suicide get rationalized by zealous advocates for various kinds of “truth.” If the “truth” that we feel compelled to defend leads to this conclusion, it is not our Savior’s truth. It is not for us to decide who is damned or what their damnation might look like.
I agree, Loursat. And I certainly am not trying to rationalize anyone’s suffering because of the gospel–especially not my own. On the other hand, I think we have to be careful that we don’t set up stakes in the wrong locations because of our assumptions about what the gospel is or isn’t. It’s a simple fact that, for one reason or another, the world — and even the saints — will be offended by the word–no matter how sweetly it is conveyed. But that fact cannot be grounds for the church to disengage from preaching the gospel.
Remember, Ammon and his fellows went to preach to the Lamanites. They had tremendous success–but also, as a direct result of their preaching there were thousands of martyrs. And finally after the Lamanite converts moved to Nephite territory for protection the unbelieving Lamanites went after them–which resulted in bloodiest war in the history of the descendants of Lehi up to that time. Tens of thousands of Lamanites were killed–and thousands of Nephites. It was a time of great mourning in the Land of Zarahemla.
So here’s the question: should we assume that it was wrong for Ammon to preach the gospel because of the resulting heartache and misery that came because of those who were offended by the word?
//So here’s the question: should we assume that it was wrong for Ammon to preach the gospel because of the resulting heartache and misery that came because of those who were offended by the word?//
We could assume there’s something wrong with importing your religious beliefs into another culture and setting off a genocide and civil war, yes. And even if this was a good idea in Book of Mormon times, the standard has changed today. Missionaries are NOT to try to preach to Muslims. Why? Because the stricter practitioners of Islam impose the death penalty for conversion. If a Muslim wants to join the LDS Church, that can put his/her life at risk. The Church has said ‘no’ to that possibility. [that’s something I heard but I can’t find anything authoritative to cite. anyone know of any authority for this? or authority for the opposite?]
So yeah, putting people at risk of death should be taken into account when deciding what to teach and to whom.
In fact, to avoid the accusation that the Church breaks up families, missionaries are instructed not to baptize teens without their parents’ permission.
The Church instructed its members to stop submitting the names of victims of the Jewish Holocaust for temple work after Jewish societies expressed how offensive they found that practice.
Yes, the Church should consider the impact of its teachings on peoples’ lives.
Janey, you make a good point about how the word is preached in different times and climes. A can’t argue with you there. But I can say that the church is still obligated to preach the gospel to all nations as fast as those nations are willing to receive it. And so, if a Muslim — one of the few with multiple wives — becomes interested in the church by an incidental encounter with a member–he may have a serious struggle with what to do with about his polygamous family. And if so, is it the church’s fault if he experiences a great deal of heartache over the conundrum? And if he finally concludes that such a change would be asking too much?
Janey,
I want to add that while I agree that the modern church needs to be sensitive in how it engages with other religions and cultures–I wouldn’t say that what happened with the people of Ammon is a product of insensitivity toward those concerns. Yes there were differences between the Nephites and Lamanites–but those who were most adamant about destroying the people of Ammon (as well as the Nephites) were Nephite dissenters. FWIW.
Jack: I too am glad if your mental health has improved. Please take care of yourself.
You said: “the best the church can do is walk that fine tightrope between compassion and advocacy.” Why? No church NEEDS to create such a tension. Jesus did not preach in this way. Jesus said nothing whatsoever about LGBT people. He also didn’t preach polygamy or try to preserve patriarchal power structures. He preached an individualistic gospel that anyone hearing it could apply in their lives to improve their morality. He didn’t take sides in political debates (although one could argue that his apocalyptic language was interpreted as an imperative to overthrow Rome). He didn’t organize a church (that was Paul). His teachings did not “advocate” for a nuclear family (that wasn’t the norm then anyway). There are a whole lot of things that have been added in to the Church’s current “gospel” teachings that originated in the US culture wars, not in Galilee.
Jack, there is something else disturbing about what you’re saying. I’m most concerned about the callousness of your comments.
When we are confronted with the potentially deadly consequences of our religious commitments, it is monstrous to respond that that’s just how it is when we’re standing up for what we believe. Stories of martyrdom and massacres in the Book of Mormon should never give us comfort; they should be an occasion for solemn reflection. Yet you treat these stories as an excuse for complicated, deeply painful suffering that our loved ones are experiencing now. You seem almost proud of it, as if their suffering is a sign that you’re doing something right. You claim that it’s a “simple fact” that people will be offended. In truth, there is nothing simple about it. If we are disciples of Jesus, our responsibility is to understand suffering and change what we’re doing if we’re contributing to it.
Thanks, Angela C.
In response to your comment–I think we have a different outlook on the Kingdom. And so we’re not going to see eye to eye in many instances. The first thing the savior did after his baptism was to select the apostles. IMO, that was the formal instantiation of his Kingdom. And the same holds true today–the Lord directs the affairs of his Kingdom through his modern apostles just as he did anciently through his original apostles. And so, for me, to rely solely on what the scriptures *don’t* say with regard to a given issue is a little too fundamentalist for my tastes. If the current apostles are indeed chosen by the Lord to direct the affairs of the Kingdom–then what they say — when speaking with authority — is the word of the Lord.
Loursat, I seem to have a way of disturbing you–sorry about that. I think if we knew each other personally you’d have a better sense of where I’m coming from–rather than relying on my poor comments to get a complete picture of my worldview.
I’m deeply concerned about the sorrows of humanity–so much so that if I think about it for too long I want to cry: Come Lord Jesus! I want him to come and wipe away our tears.
You say, “it is monstrous to respond that that’s just how it is when we’re standing up for what we believe.” Perhaps you’ve misread my comments because of my poor writing but that’s not what I believe–at all. I’m suggesting that the primary cause of our suffering has to do with the wickedness of the *world*. And that sometimes there’s little that the church can do to alleviate that suffering if we are not willing to receive the gospel–and more so that there are folks who will be angry with the gospel message even when it’s the very thing that would heal them.
Jack, I am sympathetic when you protest that you really do care. I would like to believe that. The evidence of it just isn’t there yet, based on what you’ve written here and elsewhere. Your overwhelming priority is to defend your view of the Church as your refuge from the world. You do not grapple with the problem of what we can do to alleviate suffering. You deny any discussion about our responsibility, as Latter-day Saint individuals and as a church, for harmful consequences of our choices. Blaming people for failing to accept the gospel is a cop-out when our own actions are causing harm.
The Church is a wonderful institution in many ways. One reason I remain a Latter-day Saint is that I find divinity in the Church. But I also recognize that we, the Church, have great shortcomings. Indeed, we sometimes do great harm. I don’t consider it faithful to ignore that harm. Quite the contrary. So I believe that it would not hurt you to stop this reflexive defense of anything the institutional Church does or says. The Church is not so fragile that it needs misguided loyalty. I believe that your faith would deepen and you could strengthen the Church if you were more honest about its weaknesses and strengths.
“Your overwhelming priority is to defend your view of the Church…”
Well, yes–it can certainly seem that way when I comment on blogs whose priority (as I see it) is to criticize the church.
“Blaming people for failing to accept the gospel is a cop-out when our own actions are causing harm.”
I agree. And where the church believes it’s in error it does its best (IMO) to correct itself. Of course, others may disagree–but that’s where the rubber really meets the road. So much of the discussion surrounding these themes has to do with differences of opinion vis-a-vis what the church should or should not be doing. And while I have my own opinions on that score I’ve come to know (for myself) that the apostles are the Lord’s anointed–and so I defer to their judgment on those matters where I may disagree.
“Indeed, we sometimes do great harm.”
It must be true that an organization comprised of so many millions of people will do harm. We are human after all. Now that might sound like another cop-out–but I think we all know it’s true. The real issue is (IMO) how to qualify the harm. I’ve seen a lot of criticism aimed at the church for certain of its teachings, policies, or even cultural practices without any reference to how secular doctrines, practices, or cultural mores may be misinforming and misdirecting people–thereby sending them on a course where heartache and disappointment is inevitable. I believe our culture in the West is gravely ill and in desperate need of healing. So, while I try to steer away from judging individuals–I won’t hesitate to judge a culture.
“So I believe that it would not hurt you to stop this reflexive defense of anything the institutional Church does or says.”
Perhaps–but I have a hard time not responding to Laman and Lemuel-like criticisms that are just as reflexive in their own way. I’m not saying that everyone here behaves that way. But there’s a general tenor throughout much of the Latter-day Saint Archipelago that is decidedly knee-jerk–poised and ready to shout complaints form the rooftops over the next perceived indiscretion on the part of the brethren.